The night after the funeral he found her crumpled in the shower, cold on full blast, earth and blood clinging to the tiles. Her eyes were closed; she looked like she was trying to be sick, gulping and hacking. Still dressed in the stiff old gown in which they’d buried her, now drenched grey against grey skin.
The prize is £7500, part of which I will use on a trip to Tokyo, and part of which will go towards funding my writing. This is the largest amount of money I’ve ever made from writing, and I’m deeply grateful to the judges for selecting my story.